


April Fool's Day

by Tikatu



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: April Fools' Day, Family, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, Original Universe, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikatu/pseuds/Tikatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's an April Fool's day without a prank from Gordon. TV-verse, WeeTracys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The prank planned and performed

**Author's Note:**

> What's April Fool's Day without a prank from Gordon? Here's a "Tracy's as kids" fic. Lucille is still alive as I'm going with the comic book timeline (she dies in an avalanche a year before Jeff decides to create IR). And my ages are the original ones from the series. 
> 
> _Disclaimer:_ Don't own them, just writing about them.

"Hey, do you know what today is?" Ten-year-old Gordon Tracy asked his younger brother, nine-year-old Alan as they rode the bus to school.

Alan groaned. "Yeah, I know. I was hoping _you'd_ forget."

"Me, forget April Fool's Day? No way!" Gordon exclaimed. "Now, what do we want to do today and who will be our victim? Mwahahaha!" He rubbed his hands as he laughed a fake maniacal laugh.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Nothing to nobody. Gords, every year you do this and every year _we_ get pounded. Or paddled, depending on who you pull the prank on. Can't we go this year _without_ a prank?"

"Huh? No prank! Whatchu talkin' 'bout? It's a tradition. April Fool's Day and pranks are like peanut butter and jelly, like Laurel and Hardy, like Abbott and Costello..."

"Who?"

"Who's on first."

Alan rolled his eyes, shook his head, and breathed an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes I don't understand you."

Gordon grinned. "That's okay. You don't have to." He rubbed his hands again. "Now what are we gonna do? The water over the door trick?"

"That didn't work. You sloshed water on the outside of the pail, which dripped down the door. Virgil saw the drip before he opened the door."

"Hmm. You have a point, young grasshopper. Maybe the fake spiders in the bed trick?"

"Scott didn't even notice them."

"Yeah. He's got some thick skin, doesn't he? How about the snake in the candy can bit?"

"Mom got hold of that one and when Dad was through with us, I couldn't sit down for two days!"

Gordon grimaced. "Oh, yeah. I remember that." He rubbed his behind absently at the memory. Suddenly, a sly smile lit his face. "Well, I guess that leaves John as our victim, doesn't it?"

"John? What can you do to him?" Alan asked, scratching his head.

"Don't worry. I'll think of something."

The school day passed quickly. Gordon's teacher had to address him sharply a couple of times because he was so absorbed in thinking up a good prank to play on his thirteen-year-old brother. Alan quickly forgot about Gordon's obsession in the routine of school, but the gleam in his brother's eye as they got on the bus brought it back to him in a hurry.

"I got it! I got it!" Gordon whispered, wriggling in his seat with excitement.

"Gords, I don't wanna know and I don't want to do it, no matter what it is," Alan said stoutly. "I wanna be able to say to Dad that I didn't do it and have him believe me."

Gordon waved a dismissive hand. "You don't have to do anything but keep John busy and away from his room. That's all."

"Isn't that enough?" Alan whined.

"Alan, just do it," Gordon insisted. "I promise, I'll tell Dad you had nothing to do with it. It was all my idea." His tone changed, his eyes narrowing. "Besides, if you don't, I'll tell Virgil who ate up the last of his Milky Way stash."

"That's not fair!" Alan shouted.

Gordon shushed him, glancing around furtively at the other children, some of whom were looking their way with curiosity. "Just help me out a little, Al. Just keep John busy and away from his room. You can do it all innocent like. Ask him to help you with your math or spelling; you know he'll go for that."

"Oh, all right," Alan huffed. "I'll do that." He stuck his index finger in Gordon's face. "But only that. I don't even want to know what you're doing."

"Deal!" Gordon said with a grin, holding out his hand. Alan reluctantly shook it, For the rest of the trip they sat quietly, the fourth-grader looking delighted, while the third-grader looked as if he were going to his doom.

They got off at their stop. Gordon ran home, while Alan walked slowly behind him. The redhead barreled through the front door, slamming it as he passed. He slung his backpack to the floor just inside the entryway, hurrying to the kitchen where Lucille was preparing dinner.

"What's for supper, Mom?" he asked as he rummaged around in the fridge.

"Meatloaf and baked potatoes," she replied, her hands gooey from mixing the meat and crumbs. "You can have a piece of fruit for a snack. No cookies."

"Aw, Mom!" he cried. "Why no cookies?"

"Because your father is due home tonight and he hasn't had any," came the swift reply. "A piece of fruit, Gordon."

"Oh, okay," he said sullenly. He pulled out an apple and began to munch on it.

Lucille looked at him sharply. "Where's Alan?"

"Oh, he's coming. He was being a slow-poke," her second youngest replied airily.

Just then, Alan trudged into the kitchen. "Hi, Mom," he said in a woeful voice.

"Alan? Are you all right?" she asked, quickly rinsing off and drying her hands. She put the back of one hand to Alan's forehead. "You don't seem feverish."

"I'm okay, Mom," Alan said, sighing. "I just need a snack."

Gordon jumped in quickly. "A piece of fruit, that's what Mom told me." Alan nodded, grabbing an orange and starting to peel it.

"How was your day, Alan? Gordon?" Lucille asked as she went back to shaping the meatloaf in the baking pan.

"Mine was fine," Gordon said with a grin.

"Okay, I guess," Alan replied. He brightened a bit, "We're going to have a field trip to a historic battleground, Mom. I have the form in my backpack."

"Good. Bring it to me after dinner. I'll sign it, and add it to the family calendar," she responded, glad to see her youngest smiling.

The front screen door banged shut. A moment later, Scott, nearly eighteen and a senior in high school, entered the kitchen. "Hi, Mom. Hey, squirts." He detoured to give his mother a kiss on the cheek before repeating Gordon's actions. He was followed by Virgil, a high school freshman at fifteen.

"You can have fruit to snack on, boys," Lucille informed her two oldest. She glanced around. "Where's John?"

"Track practice," Virgil replied, easily fielding the apple Scott tossed to him.

"Yeah. I said I'd pick him up at five," Scott explained.

"Oh, good. Your father's due back tonight. He's planning on being home for your birthday, Scott."

"Great! Can we go out to that steak place I like?" he asked. He took a huge bite of apple, chewing and spitting little bits of fruit out as he spoke. "After all, I'll only be eighteen once."

"That's what you said when you turned sixteen," Lucille said, snorting softly. "And please finish what's in your mouth before you speak."

"Is it?" Scott asked after swallowing the mouthful. "I don't remember; it was sooo long ago..."

The boys chuckled as their mother shook her head. "Get your homework done, boys," she instructed.

"Okay, Mom." "Sure, Mom." "I'm on it." "Later, Mom!"

The four boys filed out, Alan stopping to throw away his orange peels. Virgil motioned for him to keep the trash can lid open. "He stops. He shoots. He scores! And the crowd goes wild!" he repeated as he tossed his core into the trash can from a distance. He clapped the younger boy on the shoulder as they left the room together.

Gordon was already at his desk in the room he and Alan shared when the younger boy arrived. "John's at track practice! Now you don't have to do a thing, except maybe warn me if someone's coming," the older boy crowed. "And what I plan..."

"I don't wanna know what your plan is, Gords. I'll keep watch, but you'd better be fast," Alan warned.

"Don't worry. I'll be quick. C'mon." The two boys left their room and headed down the hall. They saw that the doors to the older boys' rooms were shut. Suddenly, music blared from Scott's room, loud and with a heavy beat. "Great! Now no one will hear us!" Gordon gleefully whispered. "We need to go downstairs for a minute."

"Why?" Alan whispered back.

"I need the stepladder."

Alan shook his head again as the two boys padded downstairs in stocking feet. He stood in the dining room while Gordon boldly made a beeline for the utility closet beyond the kitchen, pulling out the lightweight, three-step ladder that lay against the wall in there. He also pulled out a light bulb.

"What's the matter, honey?" Lucille asked, looking up from wrapping potatoes in foil.

"A light bulb's out in our room," Gordon brazenly explained.

"Why don't you ask Scott or Virgil to help change it?"

"I did. Virgil asked me to get the stepladder."

"Oh, okay. Put it away when you're done with it."

"I will, Mom." With that, the redheaded rogue carried it off and up the stairs, followed by Alan.

"You just lied to Mom!" Alan hissed, his eyes big.

"No, I didn't. You watch. But first, John's room. Keep an eye out, okay?"

Alan stood in the hall while Gordon disappeared into John's bedroom, closing the door carefully behind him. The blond fidgeted for a bit. He ducked into the hall bathroom to get a drink of water. Gordon still wasn't done, so he kept filling up his cup and sipping the contents. Between each tiny cup of water, he peered out into the hall, looking back and forth. But neither Virgil nor Scott budged from their rooms. The loud music, which Scott would never dare to play if John, a believer in quiet study, were home, continued to boom from the oldest boy's stereo.

Finally, Gordon came out. He went right down the hall into their bedroom, parking the stepladder there. He then ducked into the bathroom, Alan trailing him all the way.

"What are you doing now?" the younger boy asked.

"Just a finishing touch," Gordon said with a grin. He pulled out a tin of something from beneath the sink, palming it so that Alan couldn't see what it was. "The less you know, the better," he told his brother before disappearing into John's room once more. Alan fidgeted in the hall again, thinking about another drink, when Gordon came out. He passed Alan to toss the tin back in under the sink, stopping to scrub his hands well. "Go turn off the light in our room," he ordered. Alan left to follow instructions, while Gordon knocked on Virgil's door.

"What?" Virgil asked peevishly. He had his headphones on and his tiny music player in his hand.

"Uh, there's a light out in our room," Gordon said, almost apologetically. "Can you change it for us?"

Virgil sighed, a long suffering sound. "Okay. I'll need the stepladder."

"Got that."

"And a fresh light bulb."

"Got that, too."

"Okay, I'm coming." The teen ducked back in his room to deposit his player before following Gordon down the hall. "Which bulb is it?"

"Uh, I'll show you."

Virgil nodded, carefully removing the glass globe from the light fixture, handing it down to Gordon. He touched the light bulbs, drawing his hands away quickly. "Ouch! These are still hot! When did this happen, Gords?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Okay, which one is it?"

"The one on your... left."

Virgil carefully unscrewed the bulb, replacing it with the fresh bulb that Alan wordlessly handed him. He then fitted the globe back up where it belonged. "There. All done. Alan, turn on the lights, please?"

"Okay." Alan did as he was told. Both bulbs shone brightly behind the glass.

Virgil climbed down. "I've got to get back to my homework. Will you take care of the stepladder and the old bulb?"

"Sure, Virge. No problem," Gordon said, grinning.

Virgil reached out to ruffle his hair. "Great." He sighed again. "Back to the salt mines." With that, he turned and left, heading for his own room.

Gordon carried the stepladder and the bulb downstairs, returning the ladder to its spot after dumping the light bulb in the trash. Lucille was washing her preparation dishes. "That took a while."

"Virgil was in the middle of some important homework. We had to wait until he was through," Gordon prevaricated.

"But it's all done now?"

"Yeah. It is. Gotta get back to the homework."

"Okay, sweetie. Oh, remind Scott he said he'd pick up John."

"I will."

Upon his arrival back upstairs, Gordon pounded on Scott's door. The music was immediately muted. A moment later, Scott stood in his doorway, an irritated look on his face.

Gordon was unfazed. "Mom asked me to remind you to pick up John."

Scott ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at his alarm clock. "Ah, okay. Thanks, squirt. I'll get going in a few minutes."

The redhead returned to his room to find Alan hard at work on his math assignment. Gordon picked up his spelling book, pulling out a pencil before sitting down at his desk. Without glancing over, the younger boy asked, "So, what did you do?"

"Not telling." The older boy twisted around to face the younger. "You're the one who didn't want to get into trouble. I'm just making sure you don't."

He could hear Alan huff. "Okay, I guess."

Gordon grinned. Not only had he pulled off a cool prank, but Alan was burning up with curiosity. _That_ was icing on the cake.

TBC...


	2. The prank revealed and retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the rest of it, the prank and the fallout from it. I hope you've enjoyed this little slice of Tracy home life. I know that meatloaf is probably not what an up-and-coming millionaire/billionaire would eat; but I figure, hey, maybe they like it! John may be a touch OOC, but then, he's a teenager here, and kids can be bit more volatile at that age (I should know; I have one). The business about a "falling into the Pacific" training exercise comes from "The Complete Thunderbirds Story", a running feature in _Thunderbirds: The Comic_ , published in the 1990s.
> 
>  _Disclaimer:_ Don't own them, just writing about them.

Scott returned with John to find their father's car sitting in the driveway.

"Hey, Dad's home!" John exclaimed as he hurried into the house. Scott grinned, following at a more sedate pace. When he entered the house, he found his father and his mother with their lips locked on each other's mouths, their arms around each other. Jeff hadn't even taken off his overcoat, though he did take the time to drop his briefcase and travel bag by the door. One hand still held a bouquet of red roses, Lucille's favorites. John stood just watching, rolling his eyes, arms folded as he waited with exaggerated patience for his parents to finish greeting each other and acknowledge his presence.

When at last the couple came up for air, Lucille whispered, "Welcome home, love."

Jeff replied, "It's good to be home."

He pulled the bouquet out from behind her back, where it had ended up during their clinch, presenting it to her with a flourish. She coquettishly at him. "Thank you, Jeff. They're lovely!"

"Not as lovely as you are, Lucy." They shared one more short kiss, then Lucille made motions that she was heading to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. Jeff nodded, finally taking the time to remove his overcoat, unable to tear himself away from watching her swinging hips as she disappeared from sight. He draped the garment over his arm, turning only to be confronted by the sight of two sons, the younger shaking his head in disbelief, the elder grinning from ear to ear.

Jeff grinned. "Hello, boys!" He reached out to pull John to him in a sideways hug, then offered a hand to Scott. John colored pink with the attention, but Scott, still grinning, shook his father's hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to have you home, Dad!"

Jeff let go of John, moving to the coat closet to hang up his overcoat. "It's good to be home, Scott. These business trips are beginning to wear on me."

"How was Australia?" John rocked back on his heels, putting his hands in his pockets.

"It was profitable. Got to see a lot of Sydney and Melbourne, but didn't have time for much else, unfortunatel." Jeff took in a deep, appreciative breath and let it out with an audible, "Ahhh! Nothing like the smell of home cooking." He glanced from son to son. "Do you know what we're having for dinner?"

"Meatloaf and baked potatoes," Scott answered.

"Sounds great! How's the homework coming?"

John sighed, hefting his backpack. "I just got home from track practice so I've got lots of homework to do. I'd better get some done before supper. See you later."

"See you at the table, John. We can talk more then." Jeff waved as John headed upstairs. He turned to Scott. "How about you?"

"One more subject, but it's essay questions. I'd better get back to it."

"Right." Jeff picked up his travel bag. "I'd better walk my dirty clothes back to the laundry room." 

"See you at dinner, Dad."

"Till then."

John entered his room and threw his book bag down on the bed. He had a corner bedroom, right next to Scott's. In the corner where it could easily see out of either window, stood his beloved telescope. He often spent hours looking out at the stars or the moon if she was full. He wasn't sure if he'd have time tonight. but he hoped to. Pulling out his science book, he got down to work.

A half hour later, Lucille stood at the bottom of the stairs, calling, "Dinner's ready!" She was answered by a loud thumping of boys' feet as they raced down to the first floor and into the dining room. Jeff was already there, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, bringing in a bowl piled high with baked potatoes.

"Dad!" Alan cried. "You're home!" He grabbed Jeff around the waist for a squeeze.

"Wait a minute, Alan. Let me put this bowl down." Alan backed off. Jeff set the bowl on the table before opening his arms to his youngest son. After a strong, brief hug, Jeff's arms opened again to Gordon, who responded with a grin. When they parted, Jeff ruffled each son's hair, opting to clap Virgil on the shoulder. "Good to see you, boys. You'll have to tell me what you've been up to over dinner."

"Come on now, boys. Time to set the table," Lucy reminded them.

The younger boys scurried around to accomplish their task. Alan brought in utensils. Gordon set up the glasses, and John put plates at each place. Scott went out to bring in juice and milk to drink, while Virgil grabbed the butter, sour cream, and other items that they would add to their baked potatoes. Lucille brought in the meatloaf, setting it down on a trivet near her place. Then she went back out to fetch a bowl of cooked green beans to complete the meal. The bustle settled down after a few moments as the boys took their places. Jeff pulled Lucy's chair out for her before sitting down at the head of the table. He picked up the bowl of beans, spooning some out on Alan's plate before passing the less dangerous items around. The boys passed their plates to Lucy so she could dish out the piping hot meatloaf.

The conversation at the table was lively. Though it mostly concerned Jeff's trip to Australia, the other family members each had something to discuss. John chipped in about his practice after school. Alan piped up about his upcoming field trip. Virgil discussed the pieces he had planned for his recital. Scott got teased about Phyllis Childers, a girl at school who was pursuing him, even though he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested. Lucy gave Jeff the latest news from their extended family, including his mother, who had called the day before. "Make sure you call her back after dinner, Jeff," she warned him. "She thinks you've fallen into the Pacific again."

Jeff shook his head. "She'll never get over that training exercise, will she?"

"No, dear, she probably won't. She always felt that she should have been notified along with me while you were stranded on that island. But the policy was, in the case of married couples, the spouse is the only one given any information." Lucy forked up a bite of green beans, chewed and swallowed. "I'll never forget that time. Those were the longest eleven weeks of my life!"

"I think I might have been out there longer if Virgil hadn't been in such a hurry to be born," Jeff said, kissing Lucy's hand to the accompanying groans and fake retching noises of their offspring.

"How much longer will you have to travel, Dad?" Virgil asked. "I mean, the company's doing well now, isn't it?"

"Yes, son, it is. But I'm not quite ready to hand the face-to-face contacts off to anyone else just yet. Another year or so and I think that Tracy Aerospace will have made a name for itself. Then I can take over a desk at headquarters instead of traveling the world like a salesman." He turned to Scott. "Any more news on your college search, Scott?"

"Uh, yeah, Dad." Scott rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his face coloring with sheepish embarassment. "I, uh, heard from Yale the other day. They, uh, accepted me."

There was a pleased outcry from the parents, and a surprised one from Virgil and John. "That's terrific, son!" Jeff beamed at his eldest. "Congratulations!"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Dad," Scott stammered. "I'm still kinda in shock about it."

Lucille smiled proudly at her firstborn. "Well, then, Scott. Looks like we'll have to go to that steak place you like so much after all. It will be a big celebration! Your eighteenth birthday and your acceptance at Yale!"

"Mmm, yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Mom." Scott still looked rather abashed at the attention.

Lucille turned to Virgil. "Thank you, Virgil, for helping the younger boys out with their blown light bulb today. It was generous of you."

Virgil shrugged. "It was no big deal, Mom. Gordon had everything ready for me, and took care of everything afterwards.

Lucy frowned. She glanced over at Gordon, but the redhead was busy eating and sharing a joke with Alan.

Dinner was soon over. The boys cleared the table, scraping the plates before loading the dishwasher. Virgil and Scott offered to wash the few pots and pans, giving their mother a break. Delighted with their offer, Lucy went to the living room to put her feet up, while Jeff took the time to call his mother.

Once his kitchen chores were through, John went back upstairs to resume work on his assignments. He was a good all-around student, taking honors courses which both challenged him and piled on the homework. As a result, he could hear the tub running for the younger boys' baths before he hit his third subject. He was finishing up his fourth when Jeff knocked on his door.

"Come in!"

Jeff opened the door and stuck his head in. "Almost time for bed, son."

John turned to him with pleading eyes. "I've only got one more subject, Dad. Can I please stay up a bit later to finish it? You know I would have been done hours ago if not for track practice."

Jeff pushed the door open a bit further and stepped into the room. He leaned on the door frame, folding his arms. "Is track getting in the way of your studies, John? You know that I don't like sports putting any of my boys behind in their academics."

"No, Dad. It isn't. Really. It's just that the teachers piled on the homework today, that's all." He gave his father another pleading look. "I've been keeping my grades up. Don't make me drop track. Please?"

Jeff sighed, then nodded. "As long as you're keeping up with your grades, _and_ getting enough sleep. That's important, too, you know."

"I know, Dad."

"How much longer do you think it will take?"

"Another half hour?"

"Okay. Half an hour. Then I expect you to be in bed. No spending all night stargazing. Wait until Friday when you don't have to get up for school."

"Right, Dad."

Jeff smiled. "Good. Get to it, son."

John returned the smile. "Thanks, Dad." 

The assignment took only twenty minutes. John spent a couple of minutes getting ready for bed. He took a moment or two to look out of his telescope, hoping to see Venus or even Jupiter. He didn't see them, but he did find Mars in the sky which made him smile. Then, exhausted from his long day, he flung himself onto his bed and was asleep in moments. Jeff, opening the door before he himself retired, saw the blond head barely peeking out of the covers and whispered, "Goodnight, John."

Jeff padded down the hall to his room to find the bed already turned down. Lucille waited for him, dressed in a silken lavender chemise. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her once, twice, then again, each kiss deeper and more passionate than the first. He pulled his shirt over his head, took off his jeans, and crawled into bed with her. She traced the line of his jaw with a finger.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked, her voice sultry and husky at the same time.

Jeff blinked. "Uh, actually no. The International Date line always messes me up. Is it April second?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, April first. And do you know what?"

"No, what?"

"I think that we went the whole day without Gordon playing any pranks at all."

Jeff's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Really? That's unusual."

"Yes, it is. I think I could learn to like having a quiet April Fool's Day."

He ran his finger down her shoulder, pushing aside the thin strap of the chemise. "So could I, as long as I spent it with you."

xxxx

John tossed and turned on his bed before waking up, shivering. Groggily, he pulled his covers back over, nestling beneath them. He sleepily looked up at his ceiling, looking for the familiar constellations that resided there. When he became deeply interested in astronomy but before he was deemed old enough to have a telescope, he begged his father to paint the ceiling of his room black, then purchase some stick on stars that glowed in the dark so he could have the night sky in his room. He and Jeff had carefully arranged the stars into the constellations of the northern hemisphere, using different sizes to indicate brighter or lesser stars. It was sight that John rarely tired of, though with the gift of his telescope it had faded into lesser importance than seeing the real thing.

He gazed upward once, his eyes half closed, then he rolled over onto his side, snuggling deeper into his blankets. Suddenly, what he had actually seen registered on his sleepy brain. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what his mind was telling him. He turned over, looked up at the ceiling, and shouted hoarsely, "Aaaaaugggghhh!"

Jeff and Lucille, lying in each other's arms and talking softly after their pleasure, were startled to hear the cry. They looked at each other.

"Which one was that?" Jeff asked.

Lucy listened for a repeat, but none was forthcoming. Instead there was the sound of a slamming door, and feet pounding down the hallway of the floor above. She listened again. "I think it was John. The footsteps were coming from either his or Scott's room but are too light to be Scott's."

There was another cry, this time from a different throat. Jeff rolled out of bed, grabbing his briefs and sliding into them. He then found his bathrobe, putting it on as he headed up the stairs. Lucille slid her chemise over her head, grabbed her most modest robe, and followed.

The light was on in Gordon and Alan's room. "Hey! Stop it!" Gordon cried. Scott ran down the hall and into his little brothers' room, passing by the top of the stairs as his parents made their way up. Virgil fell in behind Jeff and Lucille as they entered the boys' room, now crowded with most of the family standing within.

Jeff took charge of the situation. "Scott, let John go." Scott, who had been holding onto the arms of a seething John, let go, folding his arms across his chest. Jeff looked from son to son. Gordon perched on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck. Alan sat bolt upright in the upper bunk, his face showing his shock. John's face was red; both hands were clenched fists.

"What's going on here?" Lucy demanded.

Three voices, Scott's, John's, and Gordon's, blended with explanations and accusations, hands waving for emphasis until Jeff bellowed, "Enough!" He turned to his oldest son first. "Scott?"

"I heard John yelling, almost screaming, in his room. Then his door slammed and he went running down the hall. Took me a minute to find my bathrobe, but by the time I did, he was in here. He'd dragged Gordon out of bed and was yelling and shaking him."

"Hmm. Gordon?"

The redhead glanced at his parent, then at his still angry older brother. "He just came in here and pulled me out of bed by the shirt. He was yelling something and he started shaking me." He rubbed his neck again. "That hurt!"

"Alan? You saw what happened?"

Alan looked down at his two next-oldest brothers, then over at his father. "Well, it's pretty much as Gordon says it was. I was sleeping when John turned on the light and started yelling. He pulled Gordon out of bed and grabbed his shirt and shook him."

Jeff looked behind him. "Virgil, do you have anything to add?"

The second oldest Tracy son gave his father a sheepish look, running a hand through his chestnut hair. "Uh, no, Dad. I didn't hear a thing. I just got up to use the bathroom and saw the commotion."

Jeff and Lucy exchanged exasperated glances. Virgil was well known as the son who could sleep through anything.

At last, Jeff turned his attention to John, who had managed to calm down somewhat, knowing that his turn to explain things was coming. "What happened, John? We heard you yell. What made you come in here and shake your brother?"

John turned to them, and Lucy stepped over to him, frowning. "What's that on your right eye, John? Is it a bruise?" She took his chin, turning his face up to the light. "No, it's not a bruise. It looks like..." her gaze flicked over to Gordon, "...shoe polish."

Jeff covered his eyes with one hand, muttering, "So much for a quiet April Fool's day." He passed his hand over the rest of his face. "Is this why you were shaking Gordon?"

John, who had now looked at himself in the mirror, glared at his next youngest brother. "No, Dad. I didn't see it at the time." He took a deep breath before pushing his way through the knot of people. "Let me show you."

They all followed the blond boy down the hall into his room, Scott keeping a firm grip on Gordon. It was still dark in the room, which made the glow of the ceiling's stars very plain and evident. But instead of being spread in their constellations all over the room, they were clustered right over John's bed in a shape that wasn't immediately evident. John pointed to them. "That! That's what made me so mad!"

Jeff approached the bed, turning his head to one side to look up, trying to make sense out of the pattern that had been created over John's bed. Finally, he had to lie down on the bed itself to see it. When he did, he tried hard to stifle his laugh. He was partially successful; what would have been a loud and genuine laugh, came out as a strangled chuckle. However, that one chuckle begat another, until Jeff was laughing at his red-haired son's audaciousness.

"It's not funny, Dad!" John insisted.

"I'm sorry, son, but I think it is rather amusing. Come here, Lucy, and see."

Lucille approached the bed. Jeff moved over to make room for her. She lay down, glancing upward. A musical laugh rose up. "That _is_ funny!" She glanced over at a crestfallen John. "Oh, don't worry, honey. We'll make sure that Gordon gets his comeuppance. But you have to admit, it's pretty clever."

"What is it, Mom?" Alan asked impatiently.

"Come and see."

Jeff got off the bed, so Alan laid down by his mother, gazing up at the ceiling. "Ooh, cool!"

"Let me see!" Virgil said. He joined Alan on the bed as Lucy got up to join Jeff. "Hey! Pretty artistic, squirt."

Gordon grinned. "Thanks!" 

Jeff gave the boy a stern look. "Don't be so happy about it, Gordon. You'll be dismantling it and restoring the ceiling tomorrow after school." 

"So, what is this masterpiece of Gordon's?" Scott asked.

"Come look." Virgil nudged Alan off and got up.

Scott handed Gordon off to his father, then plopped down on the bed. He began to chuckle. "I like the tongue sticking out the best. Great smiley face, Gordon. Too bad you'll have to take it apart. Can we get a picture of it?"

"I think that's going a little too far, Scott," Lucy said. "After all, we don't want to encourage this kind of behavior..."

Scott nodded in agreement. "You're right, Mom." He got off the bed. "So, what do we do with the little miscreants?"

"Hey! Don't include me in this!" Alan protested. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Dad, he didn't do anything and he didn't know what I was doing," Gordon added. "This was totally my idea. I did it all."

"Well, that explains why Virgil said that you had everything ready for him when your light bulb blew ... or did it?" Lucille said, folding her arms. "You needed the stepladder, didn't you? The light bulb replacement was an excuse to get it without suspicion, wasn't it, Gordon?"

Gordon hung his head. "Yeah, it was." He looked up. "But Virgil really did replace our light bulb."

"That doesn't make the lie into truth, son," his mother explained. "I think we'll be dealing with the lying as much as with the prank you pulled."

"So, what are we going to do?" John asked. "I just can't sleep here with that ... thing sticking its tongue out at me all night!"

"Oh, Gordon can sleep in here and you can have his bed," Jeff said. "Tomorrow, Gordon will rearrange the stars back into their constellations under your guidance, John. My only question is, how did you get shoe polish around your eye?"

"That's easy, Dad. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book." Virgil swiped his finger around the edge of the telescope's eye piece then showed his blackened digit to everyone.

"Ah, I see. Gordon can clean that off, too. Then we'll have a little talk about lying, won't we, son?" Jeff said, turning to the prankster.

"Yes, sir." Gordon sighed, hanging his head.

"All right. We've seen enough. John, I'll help you wash that shoe polish off your face. Alan, Virgil, Scott, back to bed. Gordon, you're sleeping here," Lucille said. "Goodnight, everyone."

Everybody filed out, except for Gordon, who sat on the edge of John's bed. _It was a good prank,_ he thought. _I didn't hurt anybody, and most everyone laughed at it, except John. Maybe if I hadn't lied about the stepladder..._ He winced. _John is going to get even tomorrow, that's for sure!_

He climbed into John's bed and gazed up at his handiwork. The giant glowing smiley with the big stars for eyes stared back, impudently sticking out its tongue at him. He stuck his own tongue out at it, saying softly, "April Fools!" before snuggling into the blankets and going back to sleep.


End file.
